Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Hello lovelies!

My absolute, most favorite part of being a multishipper is being able to look at two (or three, four, or five characters) and see the potential for connection there, whether it be platonic, romantic, or sexual. Here lies a collection of drabbles and microfics of various pairings in the HP Universe that aren't quite large enough for a full fic. Some are originally posted to Twitter and/or Tumblr. If the muse strikes, I may expand on some chapters a bit more and create separate fics for them. For the most part, the chapters are not connected and can be read out of order. I will link any connections that chapters may have to each other or with other stories I have already posted. Some are NSFW, so please read the chapter titles and summaries for the pairing and content warnings. Not all pairings are for everyone, so feel free to skip chapters that aren't your cup of tea. As always, be kind and enjoy!

Table of Contents

• Chapter 1: Table of Contents
• Chapter 2: Lucky Number 7 (Ginny x Blaise)
• Chapter 3: For Lily (Narcissa x Lily)
• Chapter 4: Couch or Chair? (Hermione x Remus)
• Chapter 5: You Already Know (Pansy x Harry)
• Chapter 6: Just…No (Hermione x Harry, Hermione x Sirius)
• Chapter 7: I Can’t… (Hermione x George, past Hermione x Fred)
• Chapter 8: Stupid Yule Ball (Hermione x Blaise)
• Chapter 9: Moonflower (Luna x Remus)
• Chapter 10: Diffindo (Hermione x Tom)

Chapter Text

Arms trembling, she fell forward with a hoarse moan. Sweat dripped down her face, mixing with her tears, as she gasped for breath. But still he kept moving. He pulled out, slowly dragging his cock along her sore walls before slamming back inside. The squelching sounds of her traitorous cunt filled the room. He held her hips in a death grip, long fingers sure to leave bruises to feel and admire in the morning. He showed no sign of stopping.

She sobbed, “I can’t!” Her fiery hair clung to her freckled back.

He leaned down and licked a stripe along her spine, savoring the flavor of her sweat and that Ginny scent he adored. “You can, baby. Lucky number 7. Or do you yield?”

She shook her head. “T-t-too much!” She groaned and contracted around him as he shifted and hit that spot deep inside of her. She swore when he chuckled.

“I don’t know, Cuore Mio,” he murmured by her ear. His tongue flicked out and licked her lobe before he pulled it with his sharp teeth. She moaned again and pushed back against him. “I think it’s just enough. Color, baby?”

She sobbed, and he immediately stopped moving. She made a noise in protest and pushed her bottom back against him, but he stilled her movement, his forehead falling forward on her back as he waited for her answer.

“Fucking Slytherin green!” She cried out, her entire body trembling.

He smiled fondly before hauling her up to sit in his lap. She laid her head back on his shoulder. He pushed her long hair away and pressed tender kisses along the slope of her neck. He gently curled his fingers around her throat and gave it a light squeeze.

She whimpered and pulled his face to hers. Her kiss was desperate as she rocked against him. She grinned when his composure finally broke and he moaned.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he murmured, his voice strained, as he gripped her hips again to meet his thrusts.

~Fin.

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She approached his still form. He was so pale. And filthy, of course. And he was small. Smaller than he should have been. James had been tall and robust, teeming with life, which she found annoying. And Lily...she always had this vibrance to her. Her quick wit and even quicker smile conveying a warmth that always eased the perpetual coldness Narcissa carried. But the boy...he was so small and pale, a shadow of his parents, reeking of neglect and longing.

She knelt by his side, scanning his body with sharp eyes. Andromeda was the official healer amongst the Black sisters, but Narcissa had plenty of unofficial experience patching up Sirius since childhood as her cousin never really knew when to shut up, even when he was at the wrong end of a wand. And having the Dark Lord and his insipidly idiotic followers invading her home since last year, she had learned emergency healing very quickly.

She immediately noted the small movements as he took in shallow breaths. She leaned in close, her nostrils filled with that teenage boy scent of sweat and soap. Her heart jackhammered when she caught a scent so reminiscent of Lily, like chamomile and honey. She made sure that her long blond hair shielded their faces, and passed cool, gentle fingers over his face and beneath his shirt where she felt the pounding beats of his heart. She opened his eye and arched her brows when he opened both, and she immediately met his panicked stare. She gave a minute shake of her head and a tiny "Shhh" sound. His eyes appeared to calm, but he regarded her suspiciously.

"Draco?" she asked, barely moving her lips. "Is he alive?"

He managed to whisper yes.

She breathed out in relief, her hands continuing their ministrations to "examine" him.

"Is he in the castle?"

His eyes suddenly flooded with a compassion as he whispered another yes. It nearly staggered her with how much like his mother he appeared then. Her simmering warmth reflected in young Potter's emerald eyes. She found a thousand memories flashed through her then in the space of two seconds. Memories of their 5th year Potions project and the Muggleborn's precision with material prep that rivaled Narcissa's, her brilliance with connecting the properties of ordinary ingredients to create extraordinary results.

"It's like Chemistry, Cissa!" she once exclaimed after they managed to make it past indifferent disdain, to reluctant acquaintances, to some semblance of friendship.

Memories of secret study sessions and lunches together in empty classrooms. Clandestine visits to Muggle tearooms in London over the summers. Ruffled sundresses with thin straps over freckled shoulders. Lily had worn sun hats so that she wouldn't freckle and burn more, but Narcissa had adored her tiny sunspots.

Memories of stolen kisses in the prefects' bathroom in their 7th year. Green eyes dark with a want that had left Narcissa breathless. It was days before Lily had accepted Potter's proposal and shattered Narcissa's heart. She couldn't begrudge her too much as her own parents had been negotiating a betrothal contact with Lucius Malfoy for the last year. But it didn't soothe her pain.

Memories of their last and only time together, just a week after Lily had returned from her honeymoon. Honey-scented, freckled skin, warm fingers, soft lips, and a clever tongue. Lily had left the bed in tears of shame afterwards, but Narcissa regretted nothing.

Memories of Severus bringing news of Lily's death, knowing that only Narcissa could truly share in the loss with him.

Narcissa blinked away tears and stared down at Harry Potter with his father's stupidly handsome face and his mother's kind eyes, and she smothered a sob.

She whispered, "For Lily."

His eyes widened, and she passed her fingertips over his lids to shut them. She rubbed a gentle, calming circle just over his stuttering heart before she rose and met the Dark Lord's gaze.

"He is dead!"

~Fin

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From his comfy seat on the fluffy green couch by the fireplace, Remus says, “Couch or chair?”

Hermione bites her lip to hide a smirk as she ostentatiously glances around Grimmauld Library’s available seats (they’re all available). Her eyes light on the only one that ever catches her fancy.

She walks over and slips an arm around Remus before settling on his lap. She startles the werewolf enough that he drops his book and instinctually wraps his arms around her waist as she wiggles her rear, not to subtly, to get comfortable. 

She says, “Hmmm, your lap seems available.”

She eases back in his arms, not bothering to hide her smile now as a rather fetching blush travels from his cheeks past his neck to his chest. The heat from his flush so palpable, she could feel it through his jumper. 

He opens and closes his mouth several times, at a loss with what to say, before managing to sputter her name. She suppresses a laugh and puts her finger over his lips. His eyes widen, and she is pleased to see a ring of gold surrounding his green eyes as Moony makes an appearance. 

“Shhhh, mon petite loup. We are reading now.” 

She opens the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History and tilts the book so he can see. It takes him a page or two before he relaxes and pulls her tighter to him as they read together, her head tucked just under his chin as he nuzzles absently into her curls. She smiles to herself, already planning how to casually slip into his bedroom later after bedtime. 

They’re not dating. 

~Fin

📚🌕❤️

Epilogue

He’s just as flustered when she slips into his bed that night with nothing on but a nightie and a smile. Remus and Moony find that they quite like when this petite, pretty woman that barely reaches their heart when standing is able to deftly flip them onto their back and easily take them into her. But they like it even more when they flip her onto her back and she laughs and says, “Fucking finally!” And they ravage her for the remainder of the night. 

They’re dating by the morning.

 ~Fin (again)

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“Why are you here, Potter?” 

She watched as Lord Parkinson’s casket was lowered into the hole. Her belly swirled with a mix of sadness, regret, love, hate, and desperation as she refrained from stepping forward to ensure that the hole was deep enough to hold him and wondering if she could convince them to make it deeper before sealing him in his grave. This man that had inspired both love and terror in her chaotic childhood, more so after her mother’s death. 

Potter was quiet beside her in his formal Auror uniform. His unit was behind him, all in their formal uniforms looking fit for the funeral of someone important, someone who mattered. Not the war criminal that was lowered inch-by-inch into the darkness. Her father deserved no such acknowledgement, she thought. Yet all who mattered in high society and the upper ranks of the Ministry had come to pay their respects. Even Potter. 

He pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose and shrugged slightly, “You already know why I’m here, Sweetheart.” 

She only hummed in response, but her cheeks burned at the endearment. She glanced at him, and instantly regretted it as she took in the love and kindness in his gaze. Always so fucking kind. It drove her mad. How he managed to trip his way into her bed never ceased to perplex her. Sweet words and stares, even when she made him leave so soon after they finished, barely catching their breaths before she was up to walk him to the floo. He wrote her letters with funny anecdotes and drawings. He left her rocks and seashells from that one weekend they spent at one of his properties by the shore. She rolled her eyes at his “gifts” but kept all of his silly trinkets in an unbreakable jar by her bed. 

“Didn’t want you to be alone.” 

She scoffed, “I’m hardly alone, Potter.” She gestured to her friends, their friends now, waiting several graves away to give her space. An amalgamation of her Slytherin kin and others from the different houses which she managed to collect in their 8th year. They were all so supportive and sweet that she almost heaved, but she suppressed the urge, as she learned to do throughout the years, and allowed their friends to show their care and allowed herself to care in return. Even the stubborn one by her side. 

“You didn’t need to bring your entourage,” she gestured to his unit. “Father most certainly did not deserve such respect.”

“They are not here to show their respect to him,” he said. “They are here to show their respect to you.” His emerald eyes shimmered with fondness and devotion. 

She turned away from the overwhelming affection in his gaze and watched as her father’s garishly ornate casket lowered to the bottom of the grave. On impulse, she lifted her hand to stop the gravediggers before they could begin to manually shovel dirt onto the casket. She had her wand in hand with a deftness bred in war and swished her wrist gracefully as she murmured, “Incendio.” 

The small crowd behind them gasped but Potter remained calm by her side, unsurprised as if he had expected it. She knew that it would be all over The Daily Prophet tomorrow, but she could hardly bring herself to care as the flames, strong from her magic, unfurled and engulfed the casket, now kindling for an unorthodox pyre. 

Her voice shook slightly as she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Rest in peace, my arse. May the flames follow him in his descent to hell.” 

They watched the flames burn brighter and higher with her proclamation. Tension seeped through her frame, and her heavy heart became lighter and softer, as the flames burned and snapped through the wood. Her face was stoic, but tears streamed down her cheeks. He offered her his handkerchief, and she took it silently and gratefully, gently wiping her cheeks and nose. 

When the flames died down and the crowd began to disperse, he turned towards her with hesitation before shaking his head slightly. He began to move away, but she slipped her hand in his to stop him. She knew the papers would get pictures of this as well but could care less. 

He immediately curled his fingers around hers with a familiarity and warmth that filled all of the hollow, hungry places in her flesh and bones and brought a smile to her face. 

She squeezed his hand and said, “Take me home Harry.” 

~Fin

Chapter Text

“Who’s in there?”

“Harry…”

“Who the fuck is in there, Hermione?!”

She opens the door slowly, and his gaze meets sad, silver eyes.

“Haz…”

“No,” he sobs. “Just…no, Sirius.”

~Fin

Chapter Text

“Freddie…” she moans, clawing at his back as he moves rhythmically inside of her.

He stills. “Granger…I’m not...”

Horrified, she whispers, “George, I’m…”

Trembling, he pulls out. “I can’t.”

~Fin

Chapter Text

She stood before the doors of the Great Hall and smoothed the periwinkle blue dress over her hips. She was late, of course. She didn’t really want to go. But as the elected Head of HUB, Hogwarts’ first House Unity Board, it would not look good if she did not attend all Hogwarts’ major social events, including the first Yule Ball after the war. 

“Stupid Yule Balls,” she muttered as she doublechecked her new fancy beaded purse (with extension spells and feather-light charms, of course).

“Not feeling very festive, Principessa?” A low voice came from her right side. 

Startled, she nearly dropped her purse before turning to her Assistant Head of HUB. “Zabini…” she said. 

She tried not to stare too hard at the way he fit into his black pinstripe three-piece Muggle suit. Or the way the stripes and handkerchief tucked into the pocket of his jacket seemed to match the blue of her dress. 

He smirked and shook his head. “Now, Principessa, didn’t we discuss how using last names is a tactic to maintain distance, therefore, we should really be using first names to foster inter-house unity?”

She returned his smirk, “Principessa is not my first name, Blaise.”

“I am aware, Hermione.”

The way his lips and voice enveloped her name should not have stirred her so, but it did. And she inwardly groaned at the delight in his eyes with the sudden rise of a flush across her freckled cheeks. 

“You look beautiful as always, Hermione. That is my favorite color on you. May I?” He asked, gesturing at her hand. 

Confused, she allowed him to take her hand. His dark eyes held hers as he bent to gently press oh-so-soft lips across her knuckles. His own eyes fluttered shut with the kiss, but he managed to catch the blush spreading furiously down her neck and chest when he rose again. He kept her hand in his. 

Thoroughly flustered, Hermione desperately tried to deflect his attention away from her flushed skin. She said, “What are you doing out here? I thought you would be inside dancing with your date.” 

She couldn’t quite hide her emphasis on “date”. He smiled knowingly and shrugged his shoulders.

“It seems like my ‘date’. has run off with your ex. They’re currently inside dancing.”

“Oh no, Blaise!” She shook her head forlornly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said. He smiled and pressed his lips to her knuckles again. “Non preoccuparti, Principessa.”

She rolled her eyes, “‘Non preoccuparti’? How can I not worry?” 

He shrugged his shoulders again, smiling wider. “It’s nothing to do with us. It’s their choice. Better we know now than later when it will hurt more, yes?” He watched her as she considered his words, his eyes lingering on the way she pursed her lips. 

“Never mind them,” he said, tucking her hand in his arm. “I do so love the way my language sounds on your tongue, Principessa. Have you been taking lessons?” 

Her eyes widened as her entire body seemed to flush. He laughed, rubbing gentle circles along the back of her hand to reassure her that he was not making fun. 

“You and I have much to discuss, Hermione,” he said. “Maybe after I escort you to this ‘stupid Yule Ball’, you would like to join me in a nightcap at our dorm?”

She laughed at his presumptuousness but found her head nodding in agreement. “I would love to, Blaise.” She turned to again face the double doors of the Great Hall. She breathed out her nerves, stood straight, and set her shoulders determinedly. 

“Ready?” She asked him, meeting his steady gaze again. 

He admired the fire of her magic in her amber eyes and nodded, “Always ready for you, piccola leonessa.”

She grinned and pushed the doors open. Aside from their silent acknowledgment of their classmates with waves and smiles, no one could tell if the couple even noticed the whispers and stares of the crowd or the glares from their former paramours. Blaise walked her to the dance floor, slipped his hand along the curve of her waist, and led Hermione in the first of many dances together. 

~Fin

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The very first night Remus uses the wolfsbane Luna perfected that allows him complete calm and sentience during his change, he spends the full moon in his wolf form picking one blooming moonflower. He finds Luna sitting in the field by her home weaving a crown of wildflowers in the light of the moon. Her hair glows in the moonlight as it trails down her back in gentle waves. She wears a long, blue night gown with bunny slippers, her legs crisscross applesauce beneath the billowy skirts of the gown. 

She’s not very surprised to see the rather large wolf stalking forward with a large flower in its mouth. She pauses her weaving to pat the ground beside her. He settles beside her and tucks his head under her arm and onto her lap, relishing her warmth along his snout, her gentle scent of sweet jasmine and honey milk, and the calmness of her magic that stills the roiling thunder of his own. 

And she talks to him, her melodious voice washing over him as his large body sinks further into her side. She speaks as if continuing a conversation they started days before. She pauses at times and cocks her head to the side as if hearing his response. The song of her voice entrances him, and he can barely feel as she places the crown of wildflowers on his head and passes gentle fingers over the fur of his neck and torso. He briefly registers the flare of her magic as she summons more flowers to her lap, but he is lulled back to his gentle slumber by the delicate scent of the flowers and the humming of her lullaby. 

Remus awakens at dawn, having shifted back to his human form sometime during the night. His arms are wrapped tightly around the sleeping witch, his head pillowed by her breast. She breathes slow and deep in her sleep, her heart strong against his ear. She has one arm wrapped protectively around Remus, a hand buried in his sandy hair to keep him close.

Remus finds the moonflower had fallen from his mouth to the grass by her side. He shifts slowly so as not to wake her and retrieves the flower. He carefully tucks the flower behind her ear. Her heart speeds slightly before settling again as big, cornflower blue eyes gaze expectantly at him. He feels exposed suddenly as he realizes that he can feel the soft cotton of her gown all along his naked body. Amusement floods her eyes and curls her lips when he flushes pink. 

Her voice is low and gravely, which Remus can admit to himself does something for him, as she says, “There is magic in being skyclad under the light of a full moon, Remus. Nothing to be ashamed about.” She smiles widely when he flushes even deeper. “However, I knew you would be shy so I made you a cover.” 

She gestures with her chin. Remus looks down and finds that they are covered in a large blanket of woven wildflowers. He huffs a laugh in disbelief and meets the gaze of the clever witch. 

Her fingers gently touch the delicate white petals of her moonflower. And her smile widens. She passes those same gentle fingers over Remus’ brow and the lines of old scars along his cheek. 

“Did you know that my father gave my mother a moonflower for his first courting gift?” 

His eyes widen in surprise. She pulls him closer to her and rubs her thumb along his lower lip before pressing a slow and lush kiss to his lips. He immediately returns the kiss, his arms wrapping even tighter around her. 

Xenophilius isn’t too surprised to see his daughter seated at their kitchen table with a man beside her wearing nothing but a bashful smile, a flower crown, and a blanket of woven wildflowers from their field. He smiles in delight when he sees the moonflower tucked behind his daughter’s ear, looking so much like her mother that he becomes a bit sentimental. Clapping his hands, he summons ingredients for breakfast and cooks as he speaks to the new couple. 

Remus is both confused and amused when much like his daughter, Xenophilius begins a conversation that seems like a continuation of a conversation they’ve never had. He does his best to follow along, smiling when Luna’s soft hand squeezes his in reassurance. 

And later, when he makes his way back home to Grimmauld Place, he does his best to ignore the teasing comments from both Sirius and Harry regarding his woven blanket of wildflowers now wrapped around his waist like a towel and his crown of wildflowers on his head. He’ll explain to them later how they are courting gifts from his beloved. 

~Fin

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His sudden apparition silenced Bella’s maniacal laughter. His hard gaze swept the parlor and softened when he met her eyes. Hermione’s tremors stilled as his magic entwined with hers. 

“How do I fix this?”

“Bring me her head.”

“Consider it done, my darling…Diffindo!”

~Fin